


The Swallow's Return

by Caeslin



Series: Apart(ment) [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeslin/pseuds/Caeslin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of an unsettling encounter, Yuuta struggles to figure out how he feels, what he wants, and where the hell Shuusuke has gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Swallow's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Fuji Shuusuke!
> 
> A few things to start off:
> 
> * This fic takes place immediately after [Apart(ment)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/342500), so it will probably make the most sense if you read that installment first. Like the first part, it takes place in an alternate future where Yuuta is a baby salaryman in Tokyo and Shuusuke is crashing at his one-room mansion, and it contains explicit sibling incest.
> 
> * Also, the name of Yuuta's ex-girlfriend in this series has been changed from Yuki to Risa, just to make clear that the person Yuuta dated is not in fact Akutsu's mom.
> 
> * Lastly, I want to give a shout-out to several people who helped hold my hand when I was writing this thing -- in particular, [Shiraume](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiraume), for encouraging me to write a sequel to Apart(ment) in the first place; RL friend C, for helping me brainstorm the penultimate scene of this fic on napkins in a coffee shop two years ago; RL friend S, for giving me space to write and humoring all my "what-if" questions for the past month; and RL friend I, for reading over my rough draft in the eleventh hour. Thank you guys so much for your assistance!
> 
> (This fic is also mirrored at [Livejournal](http://caeslin.livejournal.com/13566.html) and [Dreamwidth](http://caeslin.dreamwidth.org/13099.html).)

Yuuta woke up to a dark room. He was lying on the floor, in the position he vaguely remembered settling into before consciousness had deserted him completely; his neck was sore, his upper body was freezing, his shirt was horribly wrinkled, and under the table, a quick exploration revealed that, yes, his fly was still undone. 

After several bleary, miserable moments contemplating this fact, he forced himself to sit up. He stretched his arms and fixed his clothes as best as he could, just on the principle of the thing. He got to his feet and stumbled across the floor to turn the light on. The electric clock on his bath panel said that it was nearly midnight. There was no sign of his brother.

Yuuta wasn't sure how to feel. Abandoned? Relieved? It was hard to shake the sense that Shuusuke was lurking in an uninspected corner, waiting to pounce. He made himself check the entryway and the toilet and the shower, but they were empty. Moreover, Shuusuke's bag, jacket, and even his toothbrush were all gone.

Yuuta returned to the main room and pulled out his cell phone. Someone had set an alarm to wake him up at six thirty the next morning.

He looked in the messages folder for any new mail, but he knew in his gut there wouldn't be anything. What would it say, anyway? "Hope you enjoyed your handjob, gotta run, love Shuusuke?"

Just thinking of the word "handjob" made heat rush to Yuuta’s face.

Yeah. That sure was a thing that had happened half a meter from where he was currently standing.

Yuuta glanced down at the spot on the floor warily, as though it might have retained some damning evidence of what had just transpired, but of course it looked completely normal.

He felt suddenly queasy. As well he should. Fuck -- Shuusuke. His _brother_. His brother had just jerked him off. Yuuta had let him. He'd gotten hard. He'd actually come from it. 

In the moment, it had felt inevitable, like a wave dragging him out to sea, the sort of thing you just went with if you didn't want to drown. He'd been tired, and Shuusuke's hands had been warm, and he hadn't given Yuuta any time to say no.

Fresh from his nap, these sounded like the bullshit excuses of a lunatic. For that matter, it seemed crazy that the whole thing had happened at all. Shuusuke didn't do sex. He'd never been interested, he said. He definitely wasn't interested in _Yuuta_.

And yet he had.

Yuuta felt .... He didn't know how he felt. In need of a shower, at the very least.

While he waited for the tub to fill, he flipped through TV channels. His apartment only got four stations, and this late at night they were all showing news programs. He watched a few minutes of a story about the new economic revitalization something-or-other initiative before he noticed that the anchor had narrow wrists just like Shuusuke did, and he had to turn the TV off.

In the bath, at least, Yuuta could shut off his brain as he scrubbed his skin clean. He showered, then sunk into the tub, shivering as the hot water warmed his practically-numb fingers and toes.

He lay in the tub until the water grew cold. It was tempting to just reheat it and stay in there even longer, but the sensible part of his brain realized that if he did so, he would probably fall asleep for real.

But he found once he'd washed up and gotten into bed that he couldn't sleep after all. Every time he got close, he'd be ambushed by the memory of Shuusuke's fingers curling around his cock or the soft sound of his voice in his ear. It almost began to feel like Shuusuke was in the apartment with him, as if the rumble of traffic outside was the echo of his footsteps in the entryway, and the draft in the room was the feel of him laughing wickedly, or sighing, or just breathing as he watched Yuuta toss and turn.

-

Yuuta spent the whole next day at work in a cold sweat. He spaced out, forgot what he was doing mid-task, got fifteen items into one test suite before remembering that it hadn't even been assigned to him.

He was sure all his officemates could see his discomfort; there might as well have been a cartoon thought bubble above his head, replaying the lurid highlights of last night for the entire room to see.

But none of his coworkers said anything.

In the evening, when the other members of his team started making dinner plans, Yuuta actually agreed to come along, and they didn't seem to find that weird, either. By the time they were at the restaurant and Yuuta was on his third beer and they still hadn't called him out, he finally began to relax. 

It was past ten by the time he got back to his place. Yuuta's nerves made a resurgence as he unlocked the apartment door. He slid inside as quietly as he could, then hovered on the threshold of his main room for nearly a minute before gathering up the courage to actually walk inside.

As it turned out, this was a wasted effort, because no one was there. He saw a few more things were missing: clothes, laptop, some books. 

Shuusuke had left his cacti on the windowsill, at least, which probably had some significance. Either he was trying to reassure Yuuta of his eventual return, or he was testing Yuuta to see if he would kill his houseplants. 

Too keyed up now to sleep, Yuuta got out his 3DS and booted up the newest Monster Hunter game. He tried to focus on the screen, but his attention kept wandering to his phone instead. He should just turn it off, but the idea of not knowing whether Shuusuke had sent him a message was somehow more stressful than the thought of actually getting one.

Just before midnight he texted Shuusuke, to settle his nerves:

_hey. did you want that yakisoba bread in the fridge? if you dont call dibs by morning im eating it for lunch._

It felt like a mistake as soon as he sent it, so obviously fake-casual that it screamed discomfort instead. Shuusuke would know something was up. Yuuta dreaded the inevitable reply.

But there was no return text, not that night when he tried to fall asleep and not when he woke up the next morning. He had the yakisoba bread for breakfast.

-

Shuusuke still hadn't sent any word by the end of the week. Yuuta resolved not to overthink the implications of this.

Over the weekend, he played badminton with some of the guys from his department, then rented all the 20th Century Boys movies from Tsutaya and marathoned them. He looked up cacti care tips on the internet, and bought a water mister from the closest home center, and tried not to feel like too much of a pansy when he used it for the first time. 

He could practically sense the waves of reproach emanating from the plants as he misted them, asking where their real owner had gone, but he didn't let himself feel guilty. Shuusuke had a spare key, and he could come home when he felt like it. Knowing him, he would return next week with a bag full of souvenirs and not a single word of explanation.

It felt creepy, though, having the apartment so empty. It was a single-occupancy place so it should have been a welcome change, to actually be able to stretch his legs in the living room, to not have to squeeze against the sink when he brushed his teeth because someone else was trying to load laundry at the same time.

In reality, Yuuta spent his hours restless and on-edge. It seemed wrong that he could sit around in his pajamas and play games for five hours without anyone nagging him about his posture; or eat dinner at midnight, and actually have to make it himself; or sleep in until noon, instead of being prematurely awoken by Risa's exercise playlists or Shuusuke's weird morning showers.

He knew he hadn't always been this way. The first month he'd moved in here, the solitude had felt like paradise, the freedom liberating. Finally, a taste of real adulthood.

It was Shuusuke who had undone all that, infiltrating Yuuta's life like a weed, or like one of those parasites that burrows its way inside bugs and alters the chemistry of their brains. His absence left holes everywhere, from the extra space in the genkan, to the dust that was collecting in the corners of the living room now that Shuusuke was no longer sweeping it.

Plus, Yuuta was single again. That ought to feel just as significant as his missing brother, and it was shitty in its own right, but in a predictable, familiar way. It at least made sense that he missed Risa's laughter, and the smell of her shampoo, and the cute way she would poke her tongue between her teeth when she was thinking hard about something. Shuusuke's disappearance felt more like a ladder with one of the rungs missing, where he kept forgetting that the last one wasn't there and nearly falling on his face.

There was nothing to do except wait until his brain readjusted. In the meanwhile, Yuuta resolved to at least go through the motions of normalcy. Getting himself fed. Washing his own laundry. Planning for how he was going to react when Shuusuke finally did walk back through that door.

By the time Shuusuke saw fit to return, maybe it would all start to feel natural to him.

-

On Tuesday, Yuuta's manager invited their whole team out drinking, to celebrate the engagement of his daughter. As the youngest of the alpha testers, Yuuta had to finish every drink that got put in front of him, and by the end of the evening, he could barely see straight.

Somehow he made it home, by which time he was starting to feel thoroughly sick. One day, he thought bitterly, he'd be the senior team member, and then it would be his turn to bully the juniors and make them drink seven beers in a row and sing embarrassing TV jingles in front of the whole table. 

It was a sweet thought, but it did little to console him now, alone in his living room, with nothing to distract him from the looming shadow of a hangover but games he was too drunk to play with any sort of skill and TV programs he was too exhausted to actually focus on.

He just barely managed to get his futon laid out on the floor. He changed into pajamas. Brushing his teeth could wait until tomorrow. Once he was safely horizontal, he felt a little less like throwing up, a little more centered.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he reached his hand down below, and rubbed himself through his pants. At first he just meant to scratch an itch; but the friction felt kind of good, and the habit was familiar, so he ended up repeating the motion a few times, and then a few more, and then just pushing his pants down so that he could take himself in hand and start jerking off for real.

It felt nice at first, but for whatever reason, the feeling plateaued pretty quickly, pleasure giving way to a rote pressure that wasn't really doing anything for him. He didn't usually need to think too hard when he got himself off; just the act alone typically sufficed. It was probably the drinks that made it difficult to get all the way there this time.

He closed his eyes and moved his hand faster. Without meaning to, he thought of Shuusuke, who was the last person to touch him like this. Shuusuke's fingers had felt so different from his own, when they'd touched him. They'd been smaller, gripped him more firmly, with purpose. And of course the most disorienting part, the bit that made his head throb and his pulse hiccup like he'd just gotten zapped by a jolt of electricity, had been that they belonged to Shuusuke at all.

He couldn't remember the last time another person's hand had felt like that.

He tightened his own grip, the way that Shuusuke had when he'd held him. He traced his other arm across his chest, up his neck. It made him shiver. That had to be the alcohol, scrambling his senses, making him forget where he was. When he moved like that, when he didn't look, he could almost make himself believe that it was someone else touching him.

He'd reached full hardness at last, the tip of his erection moist, wetting his fingers as he squeezed himself. If Shuusuke really was touching him, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd corner Yuuta against a wall and press their bodies together, so that there was no space between them. His own erection would be hard against Yuuta's hip. Shuusuke would rut against him until he was satisfied, until he'd milked Yuuta's come out of him and marked Yuuta's naked skin with his nails and teeth and spilled against his thigh.

Yuuta came into his palm in a rush, panting. It took a while for his breath to come back. The nausea felt more pronounced, now. He knew he should get some water, but he didn't have the energy to move.

He closed his eyes.

The next morning, he woke up with a splitting headache, and grimaced at his own terrible breath and sticky sheets. He couldn't remember much about the night before, but he felt unsettled anyway. He downed a hangover cure and contemplated his own reflection self-pityingly in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

He checked his phone before he left. No new messages.

-

Three rounds of orders into dinner the following night, Kosaka from beta testing clapped Yuuta companionably on the shoulder and said, with pungent yakiniku breath,

"So, Fuji, why the change?"

There were a lot of changes he could be talking about, Yuuta reminded himself, and tried not to look too obviously guilty. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"We've seen more of you in the past two weeks than we have since you got hired." He leaned over to grab a chunk of carrot with his chopsticks. "You have a fight with the GF or something?"

See? Totally innocent. Yuuta relaxed slightly. "What? No. She's fine."

"Who's fine?" said Morikawa, from the other side of the table.

"Fuji's girlfriend, apparently."

"Hey, you should invite her out to eat with us sometime. Terauchi, right? Does she work downtown?" 

Terauchi Yoko had been Yuuta's girlfriend before Risa. She was quick-witted, sarcastic, and not half-bad at tennis; she'd broken things off with Yuuta because she thought they were moving in different directions, which was polite speak for "I want to have kids someday, and you live with your brother and play video games for a living." Yuuta had been too depressed by the reality of this assessment to protest.

"Yeah, that's right," he mumbled, because imaginary or no, having a steady girlfriend was one of his few pieces of social cachet at work. "I mean, no, I'm not going to introduce her to you guys. She's a nice girl."

"What's that supposed to mean? I am a gentleman."

"Anyway, she couldn't now anyway," Yuuta said. "She's visiting her family this month." Which sounded fake even to him, so he hastily added, "They're down in Shizuoka. You know, uh, I guess her dad's in the hospital for some back thing."

Against all odds, both Kosaka and Morikawa seemed to buy this.

"Shit, really? That sucks."

"Yeah, it's not a big thing. It's just, you know. Surgery. She has to help around the house and stuff. She'll be back soon."

"And we get to have you all to ourselves. I see how it is."

Yuuta felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket, and sat bolt upright.

"Uh. Sorry, give me a sec, I have to get this."

He hastily swiped his phone open and pressed 'answer' without even checking the display.

"Hello?" he said, mouth dry.

"Yuuta? This is Yumiko. Is now a good time?"

His shoulders slumped in relief at the familiar sound of his sister's voice.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, it's fine. Is everything okay?"

Kosaka winked at him lewdly. Yuuta shooed him away, and turned in to the corner of the booth.

"Oh, yes, everything's fine. I was just calling to check in and say hello. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," he said.

"Everything going well at work?"

"Yeah, it's fine. We're, uh, getting close to ship date, so it's busy, but, you know. It's good."

"Oh good. Actually, I was thinking, with your birthday coming up next month and all, it's been a while since I had you to myself. What do you say about catching up sometime soon?"

"Catching up?"

"Yes, for lunch or something. My treat. I can come into the city, and we can talk about what you want for your birthday, and you can indulge me with gossip from your life."

Lunch with Yumiko. Yuuta considered the idea. On the one hand: this could be a trap, set by Yumiko or Shuusuke or both. On the other: maybe it wasn't. He hadn't seen Yumiko since New Year's, and she was cool as far as older sisters went, and it wasn't like he had any other plans. Plus, free lunch.

"Oh," he said, finally. "Yeah, sure. That sounds good."

"Oh good. What's your schedule like? Is next weekend open?"

"Yeah, that should work. Either day's fine."

When he hung up, both Kosaka and Morikawa were looking at him expectantly. Yuuta reddened and grabbed a piece of meat off the burner.

-

As soon as he saw his sister sitting in the booth of the pizza-pasta cafe, Yuuta was sure that he'd made a horrible mistake. For one thing, with her current haircut, she looked just like Shuusuke from behind, which was just disconcerting. For another, she was practically clairvoyant. When she turned around and smiled at him, he was suddenly certain: _she knows everything._

 

"Shuusuke?" she said, frowning. "No, I haven't heard a thing from him. Why, did you two have a fight?"

Yuuta tried to keep a straight face. "Something like that."

Yumiko sighed. "What are we going to do with you two? You're so good at getting under each other's skin."

He took a drink of soda. "You're making it sound like it's not 99% his fault."

"No, I know how he likes to tease you." And how easily you take the bait, she tactfully didn't say. "But you know he just does it because he cares about you. He's just shy about showing it, sometimes."

Yuuta looked at her skeptically. Only someone who had never gone to school with Shuusuke could think that he was shy.

"I thought things had gotten better between you recently, though," she said. 

"No, they have."

"I'm glad." Her voice warmed. "I think it really does mean a lot to him, that you're letting him into your life. So what did you fight about this time?"

Yuuta had rehearsed the answer to this question, but saying it with her looking right at him was a world away from lying to his mirror. He felt once again like this might have been a giant miscalculation.

"Right. Uh. Well, it wasn't really like a fight fight. It was kind of about . . . well, you know my girlfriend?"

"How could I forget?" she said fondly. "I like this one. You still need to bring her over again so that I can give her a reading."

"Right. About that." Why hadn't he just brought this up when it had happened? Now it was going to sound weird. "We actually . . . we kind of broke up a few weeks ago.”

Yumiko set down her drink. "Oh, Yuuta, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. I mean, I'm the one who . . . look, it doesn't matter, that's not the point." Yumiko's wide-eyed look of pity shifted into a curious frown. "Anyway, I told Bro about it and he, uh, said some stuff ... that I think was his way of trying to make me feel better, but which kind of, um, backfired. And then I think he, you know, had some regrets. About the things he said. And so he left."

Yumiko nodded thoughtfully. It didn't _look_ like she could tell he was lying.

"I see," she said. "Well, that's very typical of him. Are you all right, though, Yuuta? You should have said something."

"I'm okay," he said, on reflex. "Do you really think that’s normal, though? His phone’s off. And he was acting kind of weird before he left." To say the least.

She pursed her lips. "Well, I'm sure he's embarrassed about the way he acted. And he might be a bit shocked about your break up. You know how he gets anxious about big changes in your life. He's probably just taking some time to figure out how he feels about things."

"But he didn't even like her."

"No, but you did, and I'm sure he saw that. Maybe he'd gotten used to the idea that you were going to settle down with someone."

Yuuta highly doubted that this was the case, but he couldn't exactly justify his reasoning. ". . . I guess?"

"He actually does want you to be happy, you know," she said. "We all do."

"I know." 

"But does this mean you're all alone in that apartment now? Are you eating properly?"

"I'm fine."

"You should come back home. I know Mother would like to have you back for a few days. I could come over too and we could bake."

"I'm seriously fine," he said again, a little too fast. The thought of a two-pronged inquiry about his newfound bachelorhood filled him with dread. "That's not why I asked, anyway. I just wanted your advice about what to do with Bro. Like ... whether you thought I should be worried."

It was reasonable enough to show concern, he thought. Even if he hadn't been practically molested by his brother, there had been a whole term of Yuuta's junior year in university when Shuusuke hadn't left the house. Some sort of existential life crisis thing. At the time, Yuuta had suspected him of putting it all on for attention, but those doubts had cleared up when Shuusuke dropped out of school entirely.

Yumiko pursed her lips. "You don't have to worry about Shuusuke," she said. "He'll do what he needs to do, in his own time. You just need to take care of yourself."

That would be great advice if Yuuta actually knew how to do that.

Yumiko reached across the table to rub his hand.

"Let's all have dinner this weekend," she said. "I'll tell Mother you're coming. We don't have to talk about Risa or Shuusuke or anyone if you don't want to."

He scowled. "I said I don't . . ."

"I'll make strawberry pie."

The laugh she made when she saw the shift in his expression sounded eerily familiar, but he didn’t even mind.

-

Yuuta went to his parents' house the following weekend, and as promised, there was baking. When the first pie was in the oven, he begged a bathroom break and hightailed it upstairs. He meant to go back down afterwards, but he ended up lingering in the hall, the thought of more talk so soon a little too much to handle.

He couldn't say why he ended up in front of the door to Shuusuke's bedroom, of all places.

Time had done nothing to diminish its intimidating aura. Yuuta couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been inside; he'd avoided this room like the plague from the ages of twelve to seventeen, and even after his relations with Shuusuke had thawed, to the point where they could carry on a normal conversation, it didn't mean that Yuuta wanted to do so in Shuusuke's living space.

Even now, the prospect of going in made his stomach clench, and this fact annoyed him enough that he opened the door just to prove to himself that he could.

The reality within was surprisingly mundane. The room was neat, of course. Nothing decorated the walls except for a few small photos, pinned near Shuusuke's bed; if Shuusuke were anyone else, these would feature family and friends, but because he was a big weirdo, they were all pictures of things like sidewalks and fences that he had almost certainly taken himself.

The surfaces of his desk and nightstand were free of clutter, too. Yuuta had no doubt that if he opened the drawers of his dresser, the clothes inside would be folded like they'd just come from the store.

He wondered what it had looked like a year ago, when Shuusuke lived in here full time. According to Yumiko, during the months leading up to his quitting school, there had been some days Shuusuke hadn't opened his door at all.

Yuuta surveyed the whole space, corner to corner. The room was bigger than the main room of his own apartment, but he thought it would start to feel small after a while, if you didn't ever leave. Had Shuusuke ever let himself look out the window, or had he kept the blinds closed? Had he wanted to go out? What had been stopping him?

He lay down on the bed. Unsurprisingly, it smelled like nothing but laundry detergent. He remembered when Shuusuke had first gotten his own room in grade school, how it hadn't stopped them from sneaking into each other's' beds in the middle of the night anyway. So weird to think about now, but back then, Yuuta had felt like Shuusuke was his best friend. He'd taken it for granted that they would always understand one another better than anyone else.

He ran his fingers along the sheets, pinching the fabric between his fingers. He looked up at the ceiling. He tried to imagine how Shuusuke must be feeling right now, wherever he was. Ashamed, that he'd touched Yuuta? Angry at Yuuta for not reacting in the right way? Confused? Lonely? Bored? None felt any more or less right than the others.

Well, if understanding Shuusuke's mind were as simple as just touching his stuff and thinking really hard, then Yuuta wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

"Yuuta?" Yumiko's voice rang out from downstairs. "Pie's almost ready."

Yuuta sat up, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Coming," he shouted. He hurriedly got off the bed, neatened the sheets and went back out into the hall.

-

One of Shuusuke’s cacti had developed a freaky protuberance out of its side. Google told Yuuta that this was apparently a bud. Was he supposed to do something special to make it bloom? It wasn’t even spring yet. The days were still so short; maybe he should put it out on the balcony, so it could at least get some sun. Or maybe that would kill it.

He’d been feeling funny ever since getting back from his parents' house. He was beginning to wonder if Shuusuke might just not come back. 

It ought to have been relaxing, to no longer feel like his phone was a landmine in his pocket, or like he was one drunken admission away from ruining his life forever. 

But it wasn’t. If anything, now that he wasn’t so worried about Shuusuke ambushing him, Yuuta was starting to feel kind of concerned.

Despite Yumiko's assurances, he wasn't sure that his brother was doing okay. After all, Yumiko didn't know that Shuusuke had come on to Yuuta before he left. And Yuuta had seen firsthand how isolated Shuusuke was nowadays, so he doubted Shuusuke was crashing at a friend's place. Wherever he was, he was alone, and probably not taking great care of himself.

The more Yuuta thought about it, the more plausible it seemed that Shuusuke's actions that night had actually been a cry for help. And what had Yuuta done? He'd made some halfhearted protests, and he'd allowed Shuusuke to get him off, and then he'd fallen asleep afterwards and let him leave.

A good brother shouldn't have done any of those things. A good brother probably would have worked harder to find Shuusuke before now, too.

With a knot in his chest that definitely wasn't guilt, he began looking.

He started off by calling the photo studio that Shuusuke got most of his jobs through, but that was a dead end. The person in charge could only tell him that Shuusuke had showed for a shoot a few weeks back, and that he wasn't scheduled for anything else in the immediate future. 

After that, he went through his cell phone and called the small number of acquaintances he and Shuusuke both had in common: high school classmates who had gone on to Shuusuke's university, old street tennis buddies, family friends, even Saeki Koujiro up in Chiba. 

The news confirmed Yuuta's worst fears: no one had heard from his brother in at least a year. Some of them expressed surprise that Yuuta was calling at all after all this time, and interest in what Shuusuke was doing nowadays. A few had seen Shuusuke’s photos online. Yuuta tried to respond vaguely in a way that wouldn't give away the precariousness of the current situation: yeah, he's still living in Tokyo; he does photography now, mostly; no, he's taking a break from tennis; yeah, he seems happy; I'm sure he'd love to hear from you if you have time.

As a last recourse, he called Shuusuke himself. All the calls went straight to voicemail.

"Yo," he said. "Just checking in. Things are good here. Hope you're keeping warm."

"Hey, Mom was talking about taking a trip up to Nikko in February, for our birthdays. I said I wasn't sure you could make it, but she said you're invited if you want."

"So I think you have a stalker on this one message board. They recognized your hand in that stock photo with the coffee pot."

He didn't ever actually ask Shuusuke to call him back. He figured there was no real point. 

January wound to a close.

-

Yuuta was one turn away from netting himself a legendary bird when his phone rang. He unlocked it, to see a number he didn't recognize. He swiped 'answer.'

"Hello?" It was a man's voice, polite and uncertain. "Is this Fuji Yuuta?"

"Yeah," Yuuta said, guardedly. "Who's this?"

"I'm a friend of your brother's. My name’s Kawamura. I don’t know if you would remember me – he and I used to play on the same tennis team back in junior high."

Yuuta closed his DS.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah! He's fine. He's been staying at my place."

Junior high. No wonder Yuuta hadn't gotten anywhere by going through his address book; he hadn't gone back far enough.

"Thanks for taking care of him," Yuuta said.

"It's no trouble. We've been having a good time catching up. But I think he's probably ready to go home now, if you'd like to come get him. He misses you."

Yuuta frowned. So he'd been missed. If that was true, why was this old classmate calling? Why wouldn't Shuusuke make contact himself? "Yeah, of course. Where are you?"

"We're at my family's shop. It's pretty close to Seishun Academy, if you remember where that is."

"Yeah. I, uh, actually went there too. Just for half a year."

He put the address the other guy gave him into his phone, and pulled up a map. It wouldn’t take long to get there from here. Shuusuke had been just twenty minutes down the Oedo Line this whole time.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he said, and hung up.

-

Yuuta had a vague memory of coming down this street before. The sushi restaurant was nondescript, one of those cozy old-fashioned buildings that you could mistake for someone's house if it wasn't for the big "KAWAMURA SUSHI" sign stuck on top.

He hesitated in front of the entrance for a moment before sliding the door open. 

There were a few customers in the shop, and a man behind the counter, who looked too old to be the person he'd talked to on the phone. At Yuuta's entrance, he looked up.

“Welcome!” he said.

"Hello," Yuuta said. "I'm actually here to see . . . uh . . ." He made an educated guess. ". . . your son?"

The man -- evidently Kawamura Sr. -- grinned.

"Another friend, eh?" He gestured to a door at the far end of the room. " Go on, then. Takashi's upstairs. Last room at the end of the hall."

"Thanks. I won't keep him long."

Yuuta hurriedly made his way to the door and up the staircase behind it. It was narrow and creaky. If this was a horror movie, this would totally be the part where something reached out from under the steps and grabbed him.

The second floor of the Kawamura house was clean, quiet, and empty. Yuuta felt like an intruder as he walked down the hall.

When he got to the room at the end of the corridor, it was closed. Yuuta knocked uncertainly. He heard muffled noises from within.

The man who opened the door bore a close resemblance to his father downstairs, and stirred up vague memories of tennis games Yuuta had watched in junior high, ones that had involved a lot of shouting. When his eyes met Yuuta's, he broke out into a warm smile.

"Thanks for coming over," he said. "Come on in."

"Company, Taka-san?" That was Shuusuke's voice, unmistakably. Yuuta looked over in its direction before he could stop himself.

His brother was sitting on the floor of the room, leaned back on his elbows, the picture of relaxation. When he saw Yuuta, his expression momentarily went rigid. He obviously had not been told he was being picked up.

It only took him a moment to recover. "Yuuta!" he said, voice filled with fake delight. "Have you come to get me?"

"I guess so," said Yuuta. _Though I’m not sure why, because you seem to be doing just fine here._

It took hardly any time for Shuusuke to collect his stuff: nearly everything he'd brought with him was still tucked neatly in his backpack. He zipped it all up and came to meet Yuuta by the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Taka-san," Shuusuke said.

"Anytime. It was great to see you again, Fujiko; it's been too long."

“It really has.”

"We should catch the train," said Yuuta. 

On the walk to the station, Yuuta didn't know what to say. _'I thought you might have had a mental breakdown'_ would sound melodramatic. But _'You look good'_ could be going too far in the other direction, presuming too much. And _'I'm glad to see you'_ ... well, now that he actually was seeing Shuusuke, Yuuta wasn't sure that was really true.

For his part, Shuusuke made no attempt to throw Yuuta a lifeline, but just walked in smiling silence beside him. You'd think he could at least ask how Yuuta had found him.

On the train, Shuusuke spoke up at last, with the really original opener, "So how have you been, Yuuta?" 

It was a trick question if Yuuta had ever heard one. "Okay," he said.

"Have you been keeping busy?"

"More or less."

The train car was so quiet that everyone could hear them, and the sound of Shuusuke's voice after a month's absence was unexpectedly grating. 

"You look skinnier than when I saw you last," Shuusuke said contemplatively. God, he sounded like their mom. Yuuta could feel his face going red.

“Pretty sure that’s just your imagination.”

When Shuusuke reached a hand forward like he was actually, no lie, going to _pinch his cheek_ , Yuuta shrunk back.

“Dude, don’t.”

Shuusuke calmly withdrew his hand.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, just. Personal space."

This got a nod out of Shuusuke, like he'd ever respected Yuuta's personal space.

After that he turned his gaze out the window, and Yuuta thought he was going to be spared any more conversation, but after only a brief pause, Shuusuke spoke again:

“It's cold today, isn’t it?”

Yuuta dug his nails into the meat of his palm. “I guess.”

“They said on TV that it’s supposed to snow this week.”

"Look, can we just talk when we get off?" As soon as he said it, Yuuta felt like an asshole. Looking at his shoes, he added, "It’s just, I'm pretty wiped."

After a beat, Shuusuke replied, “Of course.” 

He didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. Neither did Yuuta. It took what felt like forever to reach their stop.

-

When they got back to Yuuta's place, Shuusuke walked right inside and started making himself at home, while Yuuta just stood there, at a loss as to what to do with himself. 

“Oh Yuuta, did you water my cacti? Thank you. They look so vibrant.”

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t really do much.”

After fussing with the cacti for a few more moments, and rescuing the one that Yuuta evidently should not have put outside, Shuusuke started to unpack his bag. Maybe it was Yuuta’s imagination, but he seemed to be unzipping it extra slowly, so that the sound of the zipper echoed through the room for as long as possible. 

Yuuta went over to the TV and turned it on. He didn't care which channel -- anything to fill up the silence.

He ended up on some special about the best udon restaurants in Kagawa. He settled down on the floor, stretching out his legs under the kotatsu. He very deliberately did not look at Shuusuke. Onscreen, the TV host was talking about how one udon restaurant made their noodles.

_"Traditionally, the wheat used in sanuki udon was grown right here, in Kagawa. Nowadays, many restaurants use imported wheat instead, but the chefs at this shop are committed to staying local. Their noodles are famous for their uniquely fresh flavor and texture."_

The floorboards squeaked as Shuusuke walked around the room and returned his things to the dresser and closet. Yuuta waited for those footsteps to come over to him. He didn't know what he was going to do when they did.

_“The chefs cuts the noodles by hand. It takes years of training for them to make such smooth, clean cuts, but it shows in the quality of the final product. A master chef can slice a hundred noodles in as little as twenty seconds."_

Finally, when Shuusuke had been too silent for too long, he dared a brief look across the room. Shuusuke wasn't watching him at all; he had settled by the far wall and was now reading a novel. Or at least, that was what he appeared to be doing. 

_“The high quality of the local water gives the broth its smooth, unparalleled flavor. The dashi ..."_

Yuuta scratched his leg. He tried to concentrate on what the announcers were saying, but the close up shots of the noodles and the way they shook made him feel nauseous. He couldn't filter out the sound of Shuusuke turning the pages of his book.

How had he thought he could relax here? It was worse than on the train. The fact that Shuusuke wasn't actually saying or doing anything just made it worse. 

_”So what do you think, Tamura-san?”_

_“It’s delicious! The soup tastes so flavorful. And the noodles have the perfect firmness.”_

This was stupid. He was being stupid. He turned off the TV and stood up.

"I'm going out,” he said.

"Oh? Where to?"

"Just on a run."

"Don't forget your gloves."

Yuuta almost wanted to leave them out of spite. But he was an adult, and it was two degrees outside. He took them, and the jacket he'd just hung on the coat rack, and stalked out into the entryway.

His whole face felt hot as he jogged down the block. The worst thing was that he didn’t even know why. Shuusuke was back, and by all appearances, he'd returned to his normal self. Considering all the worrying Yuuta had been doing, it should have been a relief.

Instead, it nagged at him. Shouldn't Shuusuke have explained himself by now, or apologized, or at least acted a little bit grateful? Admittedly Yuuta hadn't done much deserving of gratitude, but he'd tried to track Shuusuke down, and he'd accepted him back into his home, and he hadn't asked any uncomfortable questions about why Shuusuke had come onto him before he left. The least Shuusuke could do was act a little sheepish in return. But Shuusuke didn't seem to be under the impression that he'd done anything wrong.

Yuuta scowled at the memory of Shuusuke's face, the moment he'd caught sight of Yuuta that afternoon. That had not been the expression of a lonely shut-in in trouble. That was the expression of someone whose fun sleepover had just been interrupted by his meddling little brother.

The winter air cut against his cheeks. He ducked his head into the wind and picked up his pace.

He wondered why that Seigaku guy had even bothered calling, if Shuusuke had been so against the idea. For that matter, how had he even known to call Yuuta? Shuusuke must have mentioned him at some point. 

What would he have even said, though? "My brother, whom I generously coaxed to orgasm when he ended things with his girlfriend ..."? "My brother, who as you can see has left me eight missed call notifications and eleven messages ..."?

Really, this was what he hated about Shuusuke, was how even the thought of him made Yuuta revert into his least favorite version of himself: angry and defensive, pathetic and small, like he really had amounted to nothing more than _Fuji's younger brother_.

He got so worked up at the thought that he didn't even notice a cyclist coming up behind him until their bicycle bell rang in his ear. They swerved around him, and he froze just in time to avoid an unfortunate collision.

As he watched the bike shoot off, Yuuta forced himself to slow his breaths. 

He needed to chill out. He could go in circles forever like this, and it wasn't going to make Shuusuke behave any different. 

Whatever Shuusuke had been thinking when he went over to his friend's, he was back now, and he seemed to want to get along. That was something, right? Yuuta could respect that. He'd just have to recalibrate his own expectations a little.

He stripped off his coat and ran a few more circuits around the block, until he'd finally tired himself out enough that he felt more or less relaxed. Only then did he let himself turn back to the apartment. 

He half-expected Shuusuke to be missing again when he got back, but he was still there in the living room, reading the same book as he'd been when Yuuta left.

"Yo," said Yuuta.

"Welcome back," Shuusuke said pleasantly, sounding like he actually did find Yuuta's return welcome. "Did you have a nice run?"

"It was okay."

Yuuta waited for whatever Shuusuke would say next. He wasn't holding his breath for an apology, or an explanation of Shuusuke's thought process for the past month, but maybe they could talk about sports or something.

Shuusuke didn't say anything else, though. Now that he knew Yuuta's run had been "okay," he seemed satisfied to go back to reading his book. And Yuuta wasn't going to be the one to start that conversation, so he didn't say anything either.

That's how the whole rest of the afternoon went, with neither of them speaking, and Yuuta's hard-won cool quickly wearing away against the sheer rock face of Shuusuke's affectless calm. They probably could have made it all the way to bedtime without a single word exchanged, except that once it got dark Yuuta started getting hungry.

He made himself speak up. 

"So, what do you want to do for dinner?"

At first he thought Shuusuke wasn't going to bother answering at all. But after a pause he made a thoughtful sound from behind the pages of what was evidently the world's most engrossing book.

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, there's no food here. Do you want to go out?"

"I suppose we could," Shuusuke said, which meant he actually didn't want to.

"If you don't want to, I could pick us up something from that tonkatsu bento place."

"That's fine too."

Yuuta tried not to grit his teeth. "Okay, let's do that then."

Shuusuke turned another page. "Shall I come with?"

"No, it's okay. I'll be back in like ten minutes."

He went to the tonkatsu bento place, and returned with their dinners and two super-sized cans of Asahi which he'd picked up at the convenience store on the way back. Shuusuke gave them a quizzical glance as Yuuta set them on the table, but refrained from commenting.

"Do you want one?"

"No, I'm fine."

While Shuusuke started in on his bento, Yuuta began to drink.

"I didn't know you liked beer now," Shuusuke said mildly.

Yuuta took another big gulp, then set down the can. "I've always liked beer."

"But you have such a sweet tooth. I would have thought you'd be the chuuhai type."

"Oh yeah? Well, what type are you?"

"I don't like to drink alone," Shuusuke said.

From anyone else that would have been a neutral statement, but Shuusuke had a way of making it sound bitchy. "Well, you shouldn't. You'd probably be a mean drunk."

"You know, it's not good to drink on an empty stomach."

 _Fuck you_ , Yuuta thought. His stomach chose just then to growl. Out of a perverse sense of stubbornness, he kept drinking anyway, until the first can was empty. Then he finally picked up his chopsticks and started eating the tonkatsu, grinding each bite bitterly between his teeth.

He didn't even feel tipsy by the time he'd finished the rest of the beer. A part of him seriously considered going out to buy more alcohol, but if he did, it would be as good as an open admission that Shuusuke was getting to him. Yuuta tried to summon some composure. Be an adult. He got out one of his games instead, which wasn't half as distracting as he needed, but at least it gave him someplace to look that wasn't Shuusuke's face.

-

Yuuta let Shuusuke take the first bath. While he was in there, Yuuta folded up the table and dragged his futon out of the closet, then played his game for a little longer before wandering into the hall to brush his teeth.

As he stepped over Shuusuke's clothes to where the sink was, he thought sleepily of the big, spacious house he'd have when he was a famous game designer billionaire. He unscrewed the tube of toothpaste and began to brush, picturing entire rooms where he could relax without Shuusuke distracting him, a private tennis court where he could work off steam, central heating so that his feet didn't get cold. Space to breathe, space to think. He didn't even notice the sound of the water shutting off until the shower door opened.

The sudden shock of naked skin in the mirror's reflection made him nearly swallow his toothpaste.

For a second, his eyes met Shuusuke's. Time seemed to freeze. 

Then Shuusuke coolly darted down to grab the towel he'd left on the floor, and pulled the shower door shut again.

Blood rushed to Yuuta's face. He hurriedly spit his toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth out, and then went into the living room.

Shuusuke came in a few minutes later, fully clothed, his hair damp and his skin rosy and soft-looking. 

"Bath's ready," he said brightly. Yuuta just nodded stiffly and started getting his things together as fast as possible.

He showered quickly, and didn't dare to soak in the tub for more than a few minutes afterwards. He double-checked to make sure that the entryway was empty before stepping out and getting dressed. He refused to let himself think about his brother's naked body, or whether he'd allowed it to be seen on purpose.

By the time he came back into the main room, Shuusuke had already gotten his futon out and turned out the lights. Yuuta could see him lying there, unmoving, though he knew better than to trust that he was actually asleep.

He slid into his own futon as quietly as he could. 

There was a charged atmosphere in the room. Something about the stillness, the undeniable proximity of Shuusuke's body, which Yuuta had never noticed as acutely as he did now. He could hear Shuusuke's every breath, practically even smell him. If Shuusuke wanted to, Yuuta realized, he could come over here in seconds.

Yuuta lay still and waited for Shuusuke to say something. "Are you awake?," or "What will you do tomorrow?", or even just "Yuuta," soft and secretive.

He shivered.

Or what if Shuusuke didn't even bother with words? It would be just like him to use the cover of darkness to try to sneak into Yuuta's futon. 

Yuuta would protest, of course. But that sort of thing never stopped Shuusuke, and he got a little hard anyway at the sheer perversity of the image: Shuusuke's body curling against his own, his nimble hands creeping under Yuuta's pajamas, his lips a searing point of warmth against Yuuta's neck. Shuusuke wouldn't make a sound, but his dick would be hard, Yuuta would be able to feel it against his lower back, and Yuuta would be paralyzed; but he wouldn't have to do anything, because Shuusuke knew all his weak points, and he would take control of the situation without giving Yuuta the opportunity to refuse.

Shit. Wait. No. 

What was wrong with him?

He tried to envision a more normal, well-behaved version of Shuusuke. A version who was lying quietly not because he wanted to lull Yuuta into a false sense of security and then molest him, but because he was waiting for Yuuta to speak up first. That might not be so bad.

He could almost picture the conversation in his head. Him saying, "Are you okay?" 

Instead of making fun of Yuuta for asking, or evading cryptically, maybe Shuusuke would respond:

"Of course. Did I make you worry?"

If he sounded sincere about it, Yuuta wouldn't mind being honest in return. It would be a relief, in a way, to get it off his chest.

"No shit I was worried. I didn't hear from you for a month."

"I'm sorry. I missed you."

"Hey," Yuuta said, out loud. "Are you okay?"

No response. 

Huh. Maybe Shuusuke really was asleep.

Yuuta rolled over to face the wall, and tried not to feel annoyed.

-

Something smelled delicious. Yuuta opened his eyes.

It was daylight. There was an empty spot on the floor next to him, Shuusuke's futon already folded and put away in the closet. The curtains were pulled open, the windows were cracked, and he could hear something hissing on the stove in the kitchenette.

The suspicious part of his brain did battle with the hungry, curious part. Curiosity eventually won out, and with a wary caution, he peeked his head out into the hallway.

Shuusuke was jostling a pan of half-formed tamagoyaki on the stove, humming lightly under his breath.

He looked more relaxed and real than he had all yesterday afternoon. Yuuta stayed frozen on the threshold, torn between the desires to interrupt and to keep watching him.

In typical fashion, Shuusuke noticed him there before he could commit to either option. His natural half-smile turned into a much sunnier, more plastic one.

"Oh, Yuuta! Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess. That smells good. You went shopping?"

"Just to the convenience store. You really weren't lying about having nothing to eat. How have you been surviving these past few weeks?"

Yuuta ignored the question. "Can I help with anything?"

"No need. This will be ready in a minute."

He couldn't exactly get mad at Shuusuke for making him breakfast, but he didn't want to be shown up by him either, so he crossed to Shuusuke's far side and awkwardly began washing the dishes he'd left in the sink.

It felt normal for about twenty seconds, until he got careless with his scrubbing and his left elbow bumped Shuusuke's right one. He didn't expect the jolt of warmth that bloomed up his spine at the touch.

Neither had Shuusuke, apparently, who dropped his pan with a violent clatter. Raw egg splattered over the side and onto the countertop.

Yuuta stared down at the mess, then up at his brother. Shuusuke, for once, looked genuinely startled. He wasn't even moving to turn off the burner.

"Jeez, are you okay?" Yuuta said, reaching out a hand, but Shuusuke flinched away from the touch like he was afraid of catching something.

"I'm fine," he said, after a beat. He smiled. "You can leave the rest of those dishes in the sink, I'll get to them later."

"Let me at least clean up the counter." 

"No, it's all right. Why don't you go put some plates on the table?"

The implied _'Leave me alone, Yuuta'_ couldn't have been louder if he'd actually said those words out loud.

Red all the way to his ears, Yuuta turned off the tap water and abandoned the rest of the dishes in the sink to go back into the living room.

Seriously? What the hell. He'd just been trying to help.

Shuusuke came in ten minutes later, with a somehow mostly functional-looking roll of tamagoyaki and two cups of tea. He offered Yuuta first pick of the slices. When Yuuta leaned in to actually take one off the serving plate, Shuusuke slid back a tiny fraction, so that there was no chance of Yuuta even accidentally touching him.

It was a small enough gesture to seem unconscious, but Yuuta knew his brother well enough to recognize its true, calculated nature. He'd seen that subtle evasion before, whenever Shuusuke had been stuck in close quarters with people he couldn't stand: any girl Yuuta had dated, for example.

But that didn't make any sense.

"Can you pass me the soy sauce?" Yuuta said.

"Here you are." And sure enough, instead of handing the bottle to Yuuta directly, Shuusuke set it down in front of him instead.

Yuuta frowned. Shuusuke took a dainty bite of his tamagoyaki like nothing was wrong.

It took several moments for Yuuta to remember to actually pick up the soy sauce and use it on his own eggs. He was so distracted that he poured several glugs more than he meant to.

"Don't add too much; it's so high in sodium," Shuusuke said.

Yuuta bit down on the side of his cheek and didn't say a word.

-

It seemed outlandish, that Shuusuke would want to avoid him. For one thing, he didn't need to; it wasn't like Yuuta was the clingy type. The opposite, if anything, which Shuusuke should know firsthand since he was usually the target of Yuuta's indignant demands for more personal space.

For another thing, Shuusuke adored Yuuta. He'd never voluntarily passed up a chance to spend time with him. Even when Yuuta had done his hardest to drive him away, nothing had worked.

So naturally Yuuta had to make sure he wasn't just imagining things now. The living room was so small that it wasn't hard to get close to Shuusuke, on the pretext of looking for a remote or grabbing something from the fridge or just stretching his legs. He offered to help Shuusuke fold laundry; unpack groceries; even relieve his plants of "cactus pups," whatever the hell those were. He gave Shuusuke countless chances to let him in in the way he always did.

Shuusuke deftly weaseled his way out of every single one.

He did it in a way that seemed natural, and even accidental; like maybe it was just a coincidence that he always had a book or a screen in his hands so that he wouldn't have to look directly at Yuuta, and maybe there really was a good reason for him to get up and wander into the hall right at the precise moment Yuuta was about to sit next to him, and maybe he was a robot who was totally immune to cold and never needed to use the kotatsu when Yuuta was inside it. 

He certainly didn't act any less friendly to Yuuta than normal; even when he was being elusive, he did so with a smile. But it was the kind of perfunctory smile you gave a stranger, one that functioned more as a wall than anything else, and the more Yuuta saw of it the more it pissed him off.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. By the middle of the week, Yuuta had stopped trying to reach out altogether. They settled into an awkward offset rhythm where they took turns eating meals and using the various appliances in the apartment, and generally maintained a buffer or silence and at least a meter of personal space at all times.

Was this how Shuusuke had been at that guy's place? Yuuta couldn't help but wonder. Sleeping on his spare futon, eating his food, but otherwise ignoring him? Or had he behaved just the way he used to here: talking with Kawamura about the most random things, taking it upon himself to clean and rearrange his furniture to his own liking, plying him with physical contact until a hand on his elbow, or an arm brushed against his own, or a shoulder pressed against his shoulder felt totally commonplace?

Shuusuke was starting to spend a lot of time out, too, to the point where he was communicating with Yuuta more often in notes than with actual spoken language. On paper, he was all smiles and affection:

_"Gone out to take some pictures. Don't get too lonely without me!"_

_"Don't worry, your big brother is just running a few errands. Make sure to get outside today and enjoy the sunshine. <3"_

_"How was work today? You'll be happy to know that I'm taking in some culture this afternoon. I wish you could join me!"_

Yuuta took petty satisfaction in throwing them all in the trash, but even that didn't totally mitigate his resentment toward Shuusuke, for thinking that Yuuta would actually believe his bullshit.

-

On Friday there was a storm forecast, and Yuuta went straight home after work. On the kotatsu, he found yet another note, which read: 

_"Out for a stroll, be back soon. There's leftover mabodoufu in the fridge if you want some. I made it mild just for you. ^_^_

_\- your big brother"_

He grudgingly reheated some. As always, Shuusuke's definition of "mild" was enough to make his mouth numb. Still, it was pretty tasty, for leftovers.

Shuusuke got back from his walk just after nine.

"Bath's ready if you want it," Yuuta said, by way of greeting.

"Oh, thank you. Did you know that it's snowing outside? You should bundle up tonight, you don't want to catch cold."

"Oh. Okay."

A month ago, this was the point in the conversation where he would ask how Shuusuke's walk had gone, or where he had been. Tonight, he turned back to his game.

He went to bed early, mostly because there was nothing better to do. Once the heat was off for the night, the chill crept into the apartment through the balcony window and sunk deep into Yuuta's skin, even with three blankets. He shivered in the darkness and couldn't sleep.

In the middle of the night, Yuuta heard the sound of blankets rustling, and then, footsteps on the floor. He went still. He waited.

The footsteps disappeared into the hallway, the door creaking softly shut behind them. Yuuta exhaled; but then, as the seconds passed, a different sort of tension started building in his chest. He listened for the sound of the toilet, the shower, the sink, but there was nothing. And then he felt this stupid impulse he could in no way act on, to get up and chase Shuusuke, wherever he was going, whatever he was doing, as though if he just asked Shuusuke would actually let him come along.

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, or if he even did. He thought he might have remembered Shuusuke coming back in pitch darkness, chuckling when Yuuta asked him where he'd been and saying, softly, "Go back to sleep, Yuuta." But it was equally possible that Shuusuke hadn't even left the apartment at all.

When he finally woke up for real, he felt like an icicle. He was going to go out and buy new blankets, he resolved to himself. And warmer socks.

The sun wasn't even fully risen, but Shuusuke was already out of bed, stretching the definition of "morning person" to a freakish extreme. He was sitting by the window, but for a change, he wasn't reading or using his computer, just staring out onto the balcony.

When Yuuta crawled over to see what he was looking at, the cause became apparent.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of snow."

A thick layer of white blanketed the balcony. It coated the tops of cars, the whole sidewalk, even the street. Yuuta didn't want to think about how backed up the trains would be. He wondered if they were even running.

He reached out to unfog a corner of the glass, which he regretted immediately when the cold bit into his fingers.

"Aren't you freezing?" he said, rubbing his hand. "It's like an icebox over here."

"Mm. You can set up the kotatsu, if you want."

Yuuta did so, putting his own futon away while he was at it. 

"Want any breakfast?" he said.

"I already ate." Why was Yuuta not surprised.

In the frigid kitchenette, Yuuta nuked some rice in the microwave and cracked an egg over it. He made a cup of instant coffee. These he brought to the cozy shelter of the kotatsu table, which was already nicely warm underneath.

"You mind if I watch TV?" Shuusuke didn't answer, which Yuuta figured counted as permission.

_"... the first Tokyo snowstorm in sixteen years to exceed ten centimeters of snow. The storm is forecast to last into tomorrow, with strong winds picking up in ..."_

While Yuuta ate breakfast and half-listened to live reporters who were freezing their asses off in Akihabara, Shuusuke continued to gaze out at the snow. He looked kind of wistful. Yuuta almost wanted to invite him over, but that would defeat the whole point of wanting Shuusuke to come over in the first place, if he didn't do it of his own volition. 

After a bit, though, he started to feel annoyed. Seriously, count on Shuusuke to make a cool snowstorm seem gloomy.

"What are you going to do today, anyway?" he said.

"I don't have any particular plans." Shuusuke said this in a thoughtful tone, as though it was a curious fact that was entirely out of his own control.

"Well, that's dumb. You should take a walk or something. Don't you want to get pictures of the snow?"

"That might be nice."

Yuuta turned back to the TV. Now it was showing the storm up in Iwate. He bet there were a lot of excited kids making snowmen right now. If it had ever snowed this much when he was little, he knew he would have been out there straight away, building forts and having snowball fights with Shuusuke and Saeki.

After a while he took another glance toward the window. Now Shuusuke was tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass.

"You think the public bath will be open today?" Yuuta asked.

Shuusuke drew a little spiral. "I don't see why not."

"I was just thinking, it might be kind of cool to go in the outdoor pool while it's still snowing."

Shuusuke gave a distracted-looking nod.

"How does that sound?" Yuuta said.

"I think it sounds nice. You should go, if you want."

Good grief. "And what about you, are you just gonna stay here?"

"I'm not sure. Like I said, I don't have any plans at the moment."

Yuuta took a gulp of coffee. It was still hot, and burned his tongue. He set it back down on the table hastily enough that a little splashed over the sides. Shuusuke didn't react.

He didn't even know what motivated him to speak up again, except for maybe a sense of masochism. "If you don't want to go out, we could watch a movie, I guess."

Shuusuke tilted his head. "A movie?"

"Yeah. Wasn't there something you said you wanted to watch a few months ago? I bet it's out on rental now."

"Mm. I don't quite remember."

"Want me to look online and see what's out?"

"It's up to you."

Yuuta scowled. "You know, if normal people don't want to do something, they just say no."

Shuusuke made a little 'hmm' noise. "I didn't say I don't want to."

"Know what, forget it. Just ... do whatever you want. Sorry I asked." He took a big bite of rice before he could say anything else stupid. And now, finally, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Shuusuke had turned to actually look at him.

There was a pause.

Innocently, Shuusuke said, "Is something the matter, Yuuta?"

Yuuta swallowed. The rice stuck in his throat. "Nope." 

"Are you sure? You seem a little grumpy."

"Why the hell would I be grumpy?"

A better brother would know very well what he was mad about, or at least have the good sense to let the matter drop, but Shuusuke just said:

"Well, if there's something I can do to help, just let me know."

The only possible response to this was more coffee. He didn't even care that it was still hot; this time, the bite seemed fitting.

After another little pause, Shuusuke said, "If you're feeling stressed, maybe you should go to the bath, like you said?"

Yuuta dropped his chopsticks on the table. "Why do you always have to do this shit?"

Shuusuke blinked. "Oh my, you are in a bad mood."

"I'm not in a _bad mood_ , you're just pissing me off."

It wouldn't be so bad if Shuusuke actually got angry back in response, but he was barely even frowning. "I can see that, but to be honest, I'm not quite sure why."

"What," Yuuta said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice and hating how pathetic it sounded, "because we can't all be as perfectly calm and rational as you?"

"I just meant to ask if there was something specific I did."

Right, so he could pick it to pieces and tell Yuuta how stupid he was for being mad. Yuuta knew better than to answer that question.

"Is this about the snow?" Shuusuke asked just a moment later, gently, as though Yuuta was a landmine he wanted to avoid detonating, or a small child. "We can go on a walk in a bit, if you want. I was just thinking it might be nice to wait until the storm stopped first."

"No, it's not about the fucking snow."

"Or we could always talk later, when you've calmed down."

Yuuta clenched the kotatsu blanket in his fist. "We shouldn't talk at all, if you're going to be a sanctimonious ass about everything."

"I don't mean to seem sanctimonious."

"You want to know why I'm mad?" he said, his patience totally spent. "Because you say shit like that instead of telling me how you're actually feeling, like, ever."

There was a long silence, in which the sound of the TV was distractingly prominent. Yuuta grabbed the remote and shut it off.

"I'm not sure where this is coming from," Shuusuke said at last.

No point in answering that; nothing he could say would actually reach Shuusuke. Still, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 

"Seriously, do you think I just don't notice? Ever since you came back, you've been acting like you don't even want to be here. I know I must seem really stupid compared to you, but I'm not blind."

And sure enough, that just made Shuusuke's expression go soft with pity. 

"Oh Yuuta, of course I want to be here." 

"Why?" he spit out. "Because you're sorry for me? Because you think I'm lonely, or something?"

"Because I enjoy your company."

"Bullshit."

"It's not," Shuusuke said, with a small shake of his head. "I care about you very much."

"Yeah right. You don't even want to be in the same room as me. I can tell, you know -- it's not subtle."

"That's not true."

"Oh yeah?"

Yuuta climbed out from under the kotatsu. His head was buzzing. Before he could think better of the idea, he was crawling across the floor, only stopping when he was right in front of Shuusuke's face.

"So I guess you're not uncomfortable now, huh?" he said.

Contrary to expectations, Shuusuke didn't actually back away this time. His brow creased with concern, as though he had a bunch of thoughts on Yuuta's behavior that he was diplomatically choosing not to share, but he stayed where he was and met Yuuta's gaze evenly.

"No, this is fine," Shuusuke said.

Yuuta flushed with anger. There was too much of it to fit inside him now; it was making him shake. And being so close to Shuusuke just made it worse, with Shuusuke's eyes boring into his own, daring him to back off. It made him feel reckless.

"Prove it," Yuuta said.

Silence.

Yuuta extended his hand slowly, waiting every moment for Shuusuke to shrink away. Shuusuke remained frozen, probably uncomfortable, possibly wondering if Yuuta was crazy. At last Yuuta made contact with Shuusuke's forearm.

"How's this?" He could feel his own pulse beating faster now. Shuusuke didn't answer.

Just as slowly, he reached out to place his other hand on Shuusuke's shoulder, only a few centimeters away from the collar of Shuusuke's sweater and the bare skin of his neck. 

"Well?" Yuuta said, quieter. Still no response.

He knew he should pull back; he'd made his point, and who knew what Shuusuke would think if he pushed any further than this. 

Instead, he found himself distracted by the warmth of Shuusuke's skin, and the weird tightness in his own belly that intensified the longer he was touching it.

In a kind of trance, he brought that hand up Shuusuke's neck. He traced carefully along his jaw, until he was cupping Shuusuke's cheek. Shuusuke's skin was so smooth. Yuuta held it lightly, barely enough to touch. His fingers trembled. 

Shuusuke didn't move a muscle. Was he scared? Was he waiting? Could it possibly be that he wanted Yuuta to be doing this?

Was that what Yuuta wanted?

Yuuta leaned forward. He felt dizzy. The distance between their faces shrunk fractionally with each breath he took – ten centimeters, now seven, now five, four, three --

"Stop," Shuusuke said.

He didn't say it loudly, but the sound still cut through Yuuta's desire like a knife. 

Yuuta drew back. 

He didn't even feel angry this time, just tired.

"Okay then," he said, once he could finally find the voice to speak at all. "I'm just gonna ... I'm going out."

For once, it was easy to turn away from Shuusuke. He had no desire to see what his expression must look like now, as he watched Yuuta leave.

-

It was still snowing outside, in sticky wet flakes that clung to Yuuta's hair and eyelashes. He hadn't been thinking clearly enough when he left the apartment to grab his hat, or his gloves, or even to get changed into real clothes. His pajama pants were already starting to drag on the ground, getting slushy in the freshly fallen snow.

He'd have to turn back soon and get some actual weather-appropriate clothing. He expected that when he did, Shuusuke would be gone. If Yuuta hurried back right now, he might be able to stop him, assuming he said the right words, assuming he could even figure out what those were. Just thinking about it exhausted him.

If Shuusuke wasn't going to tell Yuuta what he wanted from him, then fine, let him go. It couldn't be worse than this godawful interim state they were stuck in now.

Yuuta didn't even feel the cold now, with so much adrenaline still coursing through his system. He felt the stares of the occasional passerby, but kept walking. Everything seemed hazy. He still couldn't quite believe what he'd just done.

Time passed, but his mind failed to clear. Eventually, though, his body did register the chill, in every part at once: nose, ears, fingers, ankles. He stuck his hands in his pockets but it hardly did a thing to warm him up. Grumpy and shivering, he finally turned back towards home.

He didn't bother to be quiet as he re-entered the apartment. He slammed the door closed and stepped out of his boots, and clumsily brushed the snow out of his hair and off his shoulders.

Only then did he look up and notice Shuusuke standing in the kitchenette, watching him.

Yuuta stared. After only a few moments the nasty feeling of shock gave way to irritation. He bristled under Shuusuke's gaze.

"What?" he said.

Shuusuke had something bunched up in his hand, which he held up. "You forgot your gloves."

"... Yeah, I noticed." 

When Shuusuke stepped forward and held out the gloves in question. Yuuta reached out his hand grudgingly to take them. Then to his surprise, Shuusuke dropped the gloves. He caught Yuuta's fingers instead, tugging them upward in a gesture so smooth and quick that it left Yuuta no time to process.

"What --"

Then Shuusuke inclined his head forward and closed his lips around Yuuta's index finger.

Yuuta's thoughts screeched to a halt.

His finger was too numb with cold for him to feel anything but the sheer, shocking heat of Shuusuke's mouth. There was a distant sensation of wetness. Warmth. A dull ache, as blood rushed back into his fingertips. The soft scrape of teeth, gently pressing against the pad of his fingertip.

"Uh."

His hand was in his brother's mouth.

Shuusuke's lashes fluttered closed, and the unexpected hotness of that visual raised goosebumps along Yuuta's entire arm. When Shuusuke took his middle finger in as well, so that both digits were pressing down on his tongue, and he just -- sucked on them, licked around them like he did this sort of thing every day, Yuuta bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

By the time Shuusuke let Yuuta's hand drop, Yuuta's whole left side was warm, and he was, uncomfortably enough, developing the beginning of a hard-on.

"I, uhm." It was as though when Shuusuke had been sucking his fingers, he'd sucked every working thought out of his brain as well. "What?"

There was a flash of pink, as Shuusuke's tongue came out to moisten his lips. "You seemed cold."

_So what, you just decided to deepthroat half my hand?_

Shuusuke stepped forward, and Yuuta stumbled back.

"Wait," he said, all in a rush. "Stop. Can you just ... can you give me a minute?"

Shuusuke stopped.

"I mean. I'm not mad. I just can't deal with this right now." He swallowed. "I need to, uh, take a shower."

It seemed to take Shuusuke a few moments to digest this idea; but eventually, he nodded, then turned and went back into the main room. His retreating feet barely made a sound on the hardwood. Yuuta stared after him helplessly.

He kept staring even after the door was closed. 

In a fog, he started undressing. It took forever to get his jacket unbuttoned, since his fingers were half-numb and still moist with Shuusuke's spit, because Shuusuke, his brother, had just been sucking on them. Holy shit.

Once he finally got the jacket off, Yuuta stepped out of his pajama bottoms and soaked, freezing socks. He gathered them all up to go put them in the washing machine, but ended up stalling after just a few footsteps. His eyes caught on the door. On the other side, Shuusuke was ... what? Sitting? Pacing? What could possibly be going through his mind?

He _could_ have been telling the truth, when he said that he just thought Yuuta looked cold. In the strange world of Shuusuke's mind, maybe finger-sucking was an appropriate brotherly response in such a situation. Yuuta could be the weird one for assuming otherwise.

Yuuta flexed his damp fingers. He couldn't stop thinking of Shuusuke's mouth.

The door opened again.

At least this time, Shuusuke looked surprised to see him, too. 

"Ah," Shuusuke said. "I thought you'd be in the shower by now."

"Uh. Nope."

Yuuta couldn't remember how to move his legs. He looked at Shuusuke. Shuusuke looked at him.

Shuusuke made to turn around again, and Yuuta's brain kicked into gear at last. He dropped his pants and socks on the ground, to join the gloves in a sad wet little pile. Then he was stepping over them, and because the entryway was so small, it only took him like three steps until he was face to face with Shuusuke.

Shuusuke's shoulders tensed. He looked like he was expecting Yuuta to yell at him, or something.

That would probably be the more sensible course of action. But instead, Yuuta put a shaky hand on his shoulder, and leaned in to kiss him.

It had been ages since he'd tried to kiss someone who wasn't expecting it, for reasons that immediately became apparent. He'd misjudged the angle, and Shuusuke jerked back at the last second, so Yuuta's lips made contact with his cheek instead of his actual mouth. Then when he tried to reposition himself, he accidentally stepped on Shuusuke's toes, and Shuusuke nearly jabbed him in the gut with his elbow. But eventually after much jostling and shifting, Yuuta got his other hand onto the back of Shuusuke's neck, and Shuusuke's arm came to wrap around his waist, and their mouths aligned at last.

Shuusuke was tense at first. It took a few cautious kisses from Yuuta before he even started to loosen up, his grip on the back of Yuuta's shirt becoming a little less claw-like, his mouth opening just the slightest bit against Yuuta's own. But then, to Yuuta's enormous relief, he did start to kiss back; and his mouth was warm, and his lips were soft, and his breath smelled minty fresh.

Yuuta pulled back, as that last bit registered.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

Shuusuke looked at him seriously. "Maybe I always taste like this."

"You are so full of shit." But he leaned back in anyway. If his own breath tasted bad in comparison, Shuusuke didn't seem to have any complaints; he parted his lips against Yuuta's, and pressed his leg in between Yuuta's thighs, and shit. Shit, Yuuta was not ready for any of this.

It was Shuusuke who was in his arms, he thought, dazed. Shuusuke who was nibbling on his lip, Shuusuke's fingers that were digging into the fabric of his shirt. Shuusuke, his older brother, who he'd thought just an hour ago felt nothing more for him than pity. He didn't know what was crazier, the fact that it was happening at all, or the fact that he suddenly wanted it so much.

He finally broke away when one of Shuusuke's hands strayed down to touch the back of his bare thigh.

"You have goosebumps," Shuusuke said.

"... Yeah. I can't really feel my legs."

"You said you were going to take a shower?"

Yuuta swallowed. He really should. "Maybe we could just go into the other room?"

Shuusuke laughed, and took Yuuta's hand in his own. When he tugged him toward the door, Yuuta was helpless but to follow.

It was much warmer in the main room, thank god. Yuuta should really probably change, if he wasn't going to shower; he was pretty damp. But instead he just closed the door behind him.

Shuusuke let go of his hand and walked over to the far side of the room. Yuuta tried to make himself follow, but a wave of paralysis came over him all at once, and he stood there stupidly as he watched Shuusuke calmly pull the blinds shut. He looked so matter-of-fact about it; it made Yuuta feel like a little kid again, which was the least sexy feeling in the world to have at a time like this. 

What the hell was he doing? Was it too late for takebacks?

Shuusuke turned back around to face him. Yuuta couldn't bear to see whatever expression he was wearing, so he dropped his gaze; but when he did that, he saw that Shuusuke was already half-hard in his slacks.

Heat rushed through Yuuta's body, heady and disorienting. He felt blindly behind him on the wall for the handle of the closet, and reached in to yank one of the futons onto the floor. It wouldn't come out, even after several tugs. In the end he had to actually turn around to get it out, and by the time he had it out on the floor, he could feel Shuusuke standing behind him.

His heart was beating like crazy as he turned back around. There was Shuusuke, watching him with a curious half-smile. Yuuta wondered if he was feeling as sick with nerves as he himself was. He wondered if Shuusuke had fantasized about this before, or if it was all new to him, too.

He sat down on the futon with a thump, and got a sudden, intense whiff of Shuusuke's scent.

At the other end, Shuusuke bent down and calmly pulled the edges of the futon out so that it was more or less flat on the floor. Then he stepped onto it and kneeled down. Yuuta waited apprehensively for him to come close, but instead Shuusuke just reached out a hand to grab one of Yuuta's ... feet. 

This was so counter to Yuuta's expectations that he just sat there and let Shuusuke take it. He struggled not to flinch at the ticklish pressure of Shuusuke's fingers.

He shivered as Shuusuke pressed a kiss to the arch of his foot. The touch of his lips there felt so sensitive, and Shuusuke's expression was calm, almost reverent; watching it, Yuuta could barely remember how to breathe. Then he had to bite his lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises, as that mouth started to move, and Shuusuke's fingers with it, slowly up along his body. 

He felt Shuusuke's touch on his heels, his ankles, the back of his calves. Some moments it seemed to be happening too slow; others, overwhelmingly fast. This was already weirder than any other intimate encounter he'd had, but every touch made Yuuta's breath speed up, his body get a little more excited, and he couldn't bring himself to wish for Shuusuke to stop.

When Shuusuke kissed the inside of his knee, Yuuta shuddered at a sudden, startling press of moisture -- Shuusuke's tongue, licking a short stripe of skin there.

"Shit -- cut it out, that tickles," he said, embarrassingly short of breath. He felt the warm, wet puff of Shuusuke's silent laugh against his skin, and then the heat of that mouth moving upward, in tandem with the rest of his body, until he was bowed over Yuuta's waist, his hair tickling Yuuta's thigh, his breath raising goosebumps on Yuuta's skin. 

When Shuusuke's palms pressed gently against his skin, Yuuta opened his legs without even realizing he was doing it. He watched, mouth dry, as Shuusuke lowered his head between them, and kissed his inner thigh in the softest and most sensitive spot, right next to the line of his briefs.

He was fully, humiliatingly hard at this point. In a feeble attempt to ground himself, he reached his arm down to stroke Shuusuke's hair, combing it behind his ear, the gesture pure instinct. 

Shuusuke turned into the cup of Yuuta's palm, so that at the last second Yuuta's fingers skated instead across his lips.

"Fuck," Yuuta said, when Shuusuke kissed those fingers. "Bro --"

That made Shuusuke pull back and look up at him. Yuuta had no idea what to say next.

"I -- is this okay?" he said at last. "Are you gonna ... do you really ... ?"

_Do you want this?_

_Do you want me?_

_If we do this, what the hell is going to happen next?_

In answer, Shuusuke bent down again, and before Yuuta could even psych himself up for it, he had his mouth pressed against Yuuta's cock through his briefs.

It was like the feel of his hand from that night a month ago -- except worse, or better, or at any rate more intense, even through fabric. The heat; the wetness; the sight of Shuusuke's face buried between his thighs; the terrifying, exhilarating reality that it was _Shuusuke_ whose mouth was on him; all of these facts hit Yuuta's dick so hard and so fast that he thought he might come right then and there.

He made an undignified grunt as Shuusuke sucked him again, and then exhaled sharply as Shuusuke pulled away for only as long as it took to tug Yuuta's briefs down, so that his cock came totally free.

"Shit, fuck --" 

When Shuusuke bent down again to take the head into his mouth, Yuuta clenched the futon so hard in his hands that his knuckles went white. He knew that it wasn't a choice of if he would come so much as how soon, and how embarrassing it would be.

He wanted it. He'd never wanted anything so badly in his life. But still, with the little, feeble resistance he could muster, he made himself push Shuusuke back.

Shuusuke detached with reluctance. Yuuta tried to catch his breath.

"Wait, just --" He couldn't come yet. If he did, they'd be right back where they'd been a month ago: him drained and useless, and Shuusuke withdrawing again, maybe for good this time.

It took several seconds of tugging and shifting to make Shuusuke understand what he wanted and get him up to a level with Yuuta, so that they were face to face. Shuusuke's expression was a deliberate study in blankness, and Yuuta knew he had to do this next part quickly if he was going to do it at all.

"You're good," he said. "That was, uh. Seriously. If you'd kept it up a few more seconds, I would have finished." He gulped. "Just, let me ..."

In a heroic surge of courage, he reached his hand out to palm Shuusuke's lap. He felt his hardness, gratifyingly far along -- but he couldn't get distracted by that now. He had to actually commit.

"Yuuta --" Shuusuke's voice sounded a little pinched, but Yuuta squeezed anyway, lightly, in a way that he hoped felt like he knew what he was doing. He'd never actually had his hand on another guy's dick before. He'd never thought he would, or that it would make his own pulse race so much to feel it hard and hot in his palm.

"Here," he said. "I want to ... let me feel you."

Shuusuke was rigid at first. If it weren't for how hard he was, Yuuta would think he didn't feel anything at all. It was a little unsettling to maintain eye contact when he was looking like that, so he leaned forward and pressed his face into Shuusuke's neck, which made Shuusuke's breath hitch in a gratifyingly unexpected way, which made Yuuta even harder.

After he kept rubbing for a while, Shuusuke seemed to relax ever so slightly. He brought a tentative hand up to stroke Yuuta's hair, which felt nice. And his other hand snaked back down to find Yuuta's hard-on, and started stroking him in a mirror of Yuuta's own movements, slow at first and then gradually speeding up.

That felt even better than his mouth had before, somehow.

"Yeah," Yuuta said. "Yeah, please ..."

He knew there wasn't any real chance he could outlast his brother, but still, he held out for as long as he could. But even the sum of his willpower was no match for Shuusuke's coaxing fingers, or the soft, barely-controlled rhythm of his breath, or the heat of his mouth as he found Yuuta's earlobe and gave it a slow, deliberate suck -- and there was nothing dignified about what happened next, just Yuuta making a grunt and rocking his hips into Shuusuke's embrace, and coming right onto the fabric of Shuusuke's shirt.

It took him a while to remember how to breathe. He felt lightheaded; it almost seemed like the world around him wasn't quite real.

He thought: _I just had sex with my brother. Again._

He waited to feel horrified by the idea. The feeling didn't come.

He pulled away, and looked Shuusuke in the eye. Shuusuke blinked back. He was breathing in the carefully measured way that reminded Yuuta his own job still wasn't finished.

This time, it seemed to happen slower. Shuusuke placed his hand on Yuuta's wrist as Yuuta leaned forward, but he didn't actually stop Yuuta from working his slacks open, or taking him in hand. Yuuta stroked him carefully; he marveled at the weight, the heat, the way his own touch made Shuusuke's breath come faster. He kept up the motion, one stroke after the next, until at last Shuusuke's cheeks were flushed, and his nails were digging divots in Yuuta's arms.

"Do it," Yuuta murmured. "For me, I want to feel you, come on, Bro --"

Shuusuke bit his lip, looking almost aggravated, and didn't say anything at all.

Finally, he shuddered, and then Yuuta felt wetness and heat, spilling onto his skin. It sent a rush of warmth all through him.

Everything after that was hazy, but in a nice way. He slumped back onto his back, and Shuusuke followed suit after a few beats. Their knees bumped; they shifted so that they were both mostly on the futon; and they just lay there for a while, relaxing. It was a surprisingly ordinary sort of calm, after everything else that had just happened.

Yuuta figured that things would go back to being complicated soon enough. For the time being, he just closed his eyes, and wrapped his arm loosely around Shuusuke's shoulder.

-

Yuuta half-expected Shuusuke to come join him in the bath, but as it turned out, he was left alone -- whether because Shuusuke wanted to give him space or because he needed it himself, Yuuta couldn't begin to guess.

It was probably just as well that he was the only one in here. He washed up in a daze. His whole body felt well-used; some parts of his skin were even still red, from the leftover imprint of Shuusuke's mouth and his nails and his teeth. Yuuta rubbed his fingers over the marks wonderingly.

When he stepped out into the hall to dry off, he was seized by a sudden, gut-clenching suspicion. But a quick inspection revealed that Shuusuke's shoes were still in the entryway.

Yuuta put his towel and the clothes he'd dropped earlier into the washing machine, and returned to the main room. Indeed, Shuusuke was still there on the futon, staring at the wall as though something fantastically unique and mystifying has taken up residence there.

Yuuta tried to find something to say and came up short. Seriously -- where did you even begin, with something like this?

In lieu of words, he sat down right next to Shuusuke, close enough that their shoulders bumped.

Shuusuke tensed up beside him. Yuuta didn't have the nerve to look down and see his face, but kept his body where it was, arm against arm, his damp skin against Shuusuke's long-sleeved shirt. Shuusuke was utterly still. Then the tension went out of him slightly, and he leaned his head on Yuuta's shoulder.

Yuuta found Shuusuke's hand, and gripped it in his own. He felt warm and stupidly happy inside.

Outside, he could see that the snow had stopped, but it still stuck, to the roofs and the balcony and the pavement. It would probably start melting in a few hours, returning Tokyo to its normal winter gray. But right now it felt to Yuuta like time was paused, suspended in space. And he thought, it was actually pretty great, to be warm indoors when it was cold outside, and have someone with which to share the company and the view.

So of course then Shuusuke said, "Yuuta, let's go out."

Yuuta looked down at him.

"Out?" he said. "Seriously? I just finished warming up."

"But there's so much snow. Don't you want to enjoy it? We should go somewhere with atmosphere, like Rikugien."

"How do you even think we could get to Rikugien? There's no way the trains are running." Plus there would be tons of people, probably. 

"We could walk. I bet if we set out now, we'd get there by lunch."

"Nope. No way."

But Shuusuke had an animated look in his eyes that Yuuta recognized well, from a lifetime of living with him. He knew it was only a matter of time, maybe even mere minutes, before he would give in to that expression. He was going to end up fishing his jacket and gloves out of the washing machine. They were going to go out into the snow. It would probably feel even colder than it had when he'd gone out earlier, because Shuusuke would keep stopping to take pictures.

He should really be more pissed off about that fact than he was, he thought.

"Your timing seriously sucks," he said.

Shuusuke just laughed softly, and squeezed his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: if this fic were written in Japanese, it would be called つばめ帰り (Tsubame Gaeri), with the verb "帰り / gaeri" (meaning " _to return (home)_ ") replacing "返し / gaeshi" (meaning " _to return (a thing)_ "). I spent a long time thinking this through because puns are important to me.


End file.
